Facing Yourself Is Never Easy
by Miranda
Summary: Daisy is forced to face the things inside herself she's always tried to deny.
1. Chapter 1

**Shadows**

Disclaimer: I do not own Dead Like Me or anything associated with the show. This is all for fun and no profit.

Author's Note: I started this story almost three years ago, but had no idea where I wanted to go with it. I still don't, but I haven't written anything in a long time and I miss it, so this is now my 'get back into writing mode' project. If I post it, I'm hoping it'll give me more of an incentive to not abandon it. With that as a warning, enjoy. ANY and ALL comments and suggestions will be received with chocolate and caviar.

Chapter 1

She felt his hand come to rest on her shoulder. She didn't want that from him. She didn't want his pity.

"Rube, can you just go please?"

"Daisy, we're going to have to talk about this. I'll have to report it."

She nodded; she had known that was coming. It was the same as New York. Dammit, she really liked it here, she felt like she finally belonged- like she was a part of a family.

"They might let you stay, you know," Rube added.

She just nodded again, resigned, aware that everything was out of her control now. Again.

And so he left her standing there, alone, broken.

Why did she have to go and jeopardize it all by falling back into her old habits? It never seemed to go away, even in death. The feeling of worthlessness, being unloved. Something must be wrong with her, for no one to ever love her. She was beautiful, she knew that, but that didn't mean she was satisfied- you can always be more beautiful. Maybe if she was a little more beautiful, someone would love her.

It had crept up on her, at first she just skipped a meal...breakfast here, dinner there, then it got worse, only fruit, then only lettuce, then only water. Until she gave in, trying to fill that hollow place inside with every piece of food she could find. Shame and self-loathing had taken over at that point and she hadn't heard Rube come through the door, yet again looking for Mason, as she put her finger on the back of her tongue and cleansed herself of it all.

She should have known this wonderful place wouldn't keep her up forever. It was the same thing that had happened in every other place she'd been, dead or alive. It would always shock them when they found out, and somehow they always found out, because she worked so hard at being happy on the outside. She was Daisy, Daisy Adair, beautiful, confident, self-assured, actress. She was Daisy Adair, and she was a fake, a liar, a sad, lonely, lost girl, and once again, her real self had finally peeked through, just enough to ruin everything.

She made her way to her bedroom and let the blackness wrap her up in its wonderful oblivion. There was nothing she could do now, it was up to someone else. She couldn't let herself hope, so instead she let go and sank into the deep, dark depths of slumber.

Rube sat in his usual spot in Der Waffle Haus. He could think more clearly here, and at the moment he definitely needed to think. Why hadn't he seen this coming? He was observant, prided himself on it, in fact. It was his job- well, part of it anyway- to know how his group was doing. Sure, he had sort of noticed Daisy was getting thinner lately, but he'd just shrugged it off. It was Daisy, he'd thought it was just some stupid diet. It seemed liked everyone was on a diet these days, nothing serious. Or so he'd thought.

He'd never thought Daisy would do something like that. She seemed so together- all the time. He didn't think she had enough depth for anything to affect her like that. He hadn't really believed George when she told him that Daisy always seemed sad about something. She never seemed sad to him. But to be honest she was the one he gave the least thought to. She was easy, besides the boyfriends and scams, she was easy to handle. He didn't worry about her mental state like he did George's, or even Roxy's. He didn't have to worry about her screwing something up like he did with Mason. She did her job- no complaints. Most of the time when she spoke up he dismissed what she was saying. It always seemed so shallow. He didn't believe that anymore. He couldn't after seeing that look in her eyes.

Mason hadn't shown up for breakfast this morning, so he'd gone looking for him. With Mason, you could never really know where he might be. He'd tried George and Daisy's house after about an hour of looking. No one had answered the door, so he'd let himself in. He saw the bathroom light on, the door ajar, so he figured it was safe to go in. And he'd been graced with the sight of Daisy on her knees before the toilet, her fingers in the back of her throat, throwing up. Purging- isn't that what they called it? She'd spun around when he said her name, and the look in her eyes challenged everything he'd thought about her. He'd never seen that much hate, anger, and sadness in one person. Sure, he saw people who were angry, sad, and hateful everyday. The souls he took weren't always happy to be dead, but he'd never seen them all concentrated in one person with such intensity. She'd turned away for a minute, and when she'd turned back she'd fixed that Daisy Adair smile on her face, ready to laugh it off or make up some lame excuse. It hadn't worked this time, she could see he wasn't buying it, and she'd let it slip away. He hadn't known what to say.

He, Rube, had been speechless.

"Daisy–" he'd started.

"Rube, could you please just go?"

"Daisy, we're going to have to talk about this. I'll have to report it."

And she'd just nodded. She looked totally defeated. And he'd left her there. Mason was no longer an issue. He had other things to figure out.

So here he sat, his mind reeling. Should he really report it? He'd let other things slide before. He didn't report Mason's drinking and whatnot. Mostly because he didn't think it was because of the job, but this wasn't about the job either. He was supposed to report things like this, so that changes could be made to try to find the best place and situation for everyone. Reapers needed to be able to handle all the death, and they needed to be able to deal with the souls in a responsible and hopefully caring way, and they needed to fit into society, not draw attention to themselves. If Daisy was having this problem, maybe this wasn't the best place for her. He didn't feel right reporting it at the moment. He'd be a hypocrite if he reported Daisy and never reported Mason. He'd wait until after he talked to her. He needed to find out if she was really that unhappy here. Somehow he couldn't see it being an easy thing, talking to Daisy.


	2. Chapter 2: The Talk

The Talk

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

AN: I know this is short, and the next chapter isn't much better, but I'll try to make them a little longer from now on.

Chapter 2

The knocking wouldn't stop. Daisy tried to ignore it again and fall back to sleep, but it was persistent and stubborn. She knew who it was just from the knock, and the knowing made her try to sleep even harder.

The knocking grew louder.

She glanced at the clock and realized that George would be home soon anyway, and she'd rather get this 'talk' out of the way before there was anyone who could be a possible witness. It made leaving easier when no one else knew until after she was gone. She was convinced Rube was going to tell her she'd been transferred again. That was the way it went.

She groaned and sat up, smoothing her hair into place, not being able to resist a quick stop at the mirror to check her face. Well, if she was going to face this, she might as well look good, it'd give her something she could feel confident about.

She took a deep breath- and opened the door.

Rube's eyes searched her face before nodding hello.

Daisy stepped back to let him in, not letting herself show any emotion. She was determined to get through this with every shred of dignity she had left.

Rube sat at the kitchen table and gestured for Daisy to take a seat.

After a few minutes it was clear Daisy wasn't going to say anything.

"I haven't made any decisions yet," he started, noticing the surprise that flashed in her eyes. It was pretty obvious what she'd been expecting, some fake concern and a 'see you around.'

"I wanted to get your opinion before any action is taken," he paused until she made eye contact, "do you want to leave?"

She looked at him for a long time, her eyes full of unidentifiable emotion, before she whispered, "No."

"Then you need to explain to me why this happened. If it isn't because you're unhappy here, then tell me what we need to change."

"The capacity for human memories would be a good start," she said sarcastically.

Rube gave her a hard look, sarcasm didn't suit her and he wasn't used to it.

"Sorry Rube, I don't know what needs to change. If I knew that don't you think I would've done something about it in the last 70 odd years."

That was before she died, Rube realized. That's a long time to carry something like this around.

"Is it for control? Because you think you need to loose weight? Because it makes you feel real?"

Her face was angry when she looked at him, "Oh, please, save me the pseudo-psycho-babble, okay? You needn't feel obligated to try. Trust me, I won't feel hurt."

Rube was silent. He'd had a long time to learn that silence was a very effective technique when used correctly in conversations.

"I don't know! God, can't we just leave it at that? I promise I'll never do it again, I'll work out my problems quietly and unobtrusively and won't cause any more problems or embarrassments." Her tone had become patronizing.

Rube held her gaze when she took a deep breath, "You are not an embarrassment."

Daisy looked away towards the window, trying to ignore the tears that threatened.

"I don't know how to help you if I don't understand what's going on in that head of yours."

Daisy scoffed, "I thought you were under the impression that nothing went on in my head."

Rube twisted his mouth into a wry smile, "It was easier to think that, but I was wrong."

Daisy shook her head, "Seriously Rube, you don't need to pretend to care. I'm not looking for attention or sympathy." How could she even begin to explain to this man that she layed awake at night feeling incomplete and empty, guilty for things that she couldn't have changed. That she felt inconsequential and that was the one thing above all others that she couldn't handle. That sometimes she felt such self-hatred that she wanted to peel her skin inside out and wash everything inside down the drain. That she felt like a failure and could find no reason to keep going- and suicide wasn't even an option. That she longed for someone to love her- all of her, and at the same time felt wholly un-lovable. He'd never understand, even she didn't understand, why sometimes her head was an inhospitable and hostile place to be. And he couldn't fix it.

"I do care. I know I don't show it, but I do care."

He rested his hand on hers, not surprised when she pulled away. He sighed and stood up.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning," he said, and let himself out the front door. There was nothing else he could do at the moment. The defenses were up and walls that had taken over 80 years to build weren't going to fall in one afternoon. He'd let her calm down, and give himself some more time to think.

Daisy stared at the door, her thoughts racing. She could stay, maybe. What did he want? She knew this wasn't the end of this, but she had no idea where it was going to go from here.

AN: Translated that last line means "The author has no idea where the story is going to go from here." Reviews and suggestions are more than welcome.


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